


Forgiveness

by Winterscribe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22262674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterscribe/pseuds/Winterscribe
Summary: Reader wakes up with a different memory than what others are telling her. Bucky finds solace in the arms of his beloved
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Kudos: 32





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Digging my way out of a hole and trying this thing called writing again. Here's hoping I didn't botch it. Any feedback, good or bad, is much appreciated.

I woke with the sunrise streaming through the window, causing my crystal wind chimes to dance colors across my room. I stretched slightly and reached behind me, feeling for Bucky. I frowned when I realized that my boyfriend wasn't there. "Odd," I thought, "It's too early for Bucky to be up, he’s only been home a few hours. Maybe he couldn’t sleep." I slowly got up, grabbed some clothes, and padded into the bathroom. When I came out, I walked downstairs expecting to see the TV on or Bucky in the kitchen making a mess. But the house was silent. All the lights were off, and there was nobody in the living room or the kitchen.

"Bucky?" Turning on the lights, I searched for a note, saying where Bucky went, but there was none. I walked the house, checking each room for some sign of where he was. Finding nothing, I went back to the bedroom and grabbed my cell phone. I decided to call his cell, hoping to ease the ever-growing fear, but it went straight to voicemail.

“Bucky, are you there? Where are you? Please, pick up. I’m worried about you. Call me back.” Something was wrong. Bucky had never just up and left without telling me and he never kept his phone off. After heading back down to the kitchen, I dialed Steve and Natasha's house. Bucky always taught me that it's important to keep a level head about yourself. Just because there's a crisis going on, doesn't prevent the rest of life from continuing on, so I put on some coffee. I had a feeling I would need it later. I tapped my hands on the counter but that couldn’t hold my attention very long so I shifted to walking around in the kitchen. Finally, after the fifth ring, someone answered.

“This had better be good.” Natasha bit out. I felt bad for waking her at this hour. She wasn’t a morning person and you woke her up at your own peril. But I would worry about her vengeance later, for now my main concern was for my missing boyfriend.

“Nat? Hey, it's me.” I couldn’t keep the tremors out of my voice. I had to swallow several times before being able to continue. “I’m so sorry for waking you.”

“What’s wrong?” Natasha went from being half asleep to full on alert.

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know. Is Steve there?”

“Yeah, hold on.” I could hear rustling noises, as she tried to rouse Steve. Their conversation was muffled but just loud enough that I could distinguish that Nat told Steve it was me on the line.

“Hey, what’s going on? You OK?” Steve said groggily.

“Steve, I'm sorry to wake you, but I thought maybe you knew where Bucky is. Since he went out with you last night, I thought maybe he told you where he was going today.” There was an audible silence on the other end of the phone. I could hear Steve breathing. His voice was a mere whisper when he answered.

“What are you talking about?” he replied carefully.

“Have you heard or seen Bucky since last night?” I was nervous about his answer. Steve had never lied to me in the past, but the sense of dread was making me think he was hiding something now.

“I…I didn't go out with Bucky last night.” Steve slowly said. “Are you okay? You're starting to worry me.”

“No, not really. I’m mad that he lied to me but mostly I’m worried about him. Something is wrong. I can feel it. He wouldn’t just up and leave without good reason. And if you don’t even know where he is...” I trailed off, pacing around the house, fury and worry coursing through my veins. We’d been together for several years now, after the government realized their mistake and cleared his name. Our relationship was by far not perfect, but we had agreed early on never to lie to one another. We both had enough of that in our lives. He always told me when he was going out, and where. I didn’t care if he went to a strip club, so long as he told me. In the past, if he had a nightmare and thought I was in danger of the Winter Soldier, he would take a walk or go someplace to collect himself, leaving a note on the bed as to keep me from worrying.

Steve sighed heavily before saying, “Sounds like you've been dreaming again."

“What? What are you talking about?” I asked, confused. What does my dreams have to do with Bucky breaking our most sacred vow?

“Because...” Steve hesitated. I heard him swallow thickly. His voice cracked, “Because...Bucky died.” My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. Nausea swam over me and I fought to stay standing. I grabbed onto the back of a chair to steady myself.

“Steve, don't joke like that. It’s not funny.” My voice squeaked. I forced a half-laugh, my anger seeping through. “Did he put you up to this? Look, if he got drunk on the hidden stash of Thor’s mead and did something bad, the least you guys can do is just tell me. Not make up some half-assed lie. He might wish he were dead, but I promise, I’ll forgive his stupid ass.”

“I know this has been hard for you, it’s been hard for all of us. We all miss him.”

“How. Dare. You.” I seethed. “Stop lying. Tell me the truth.”

”I'm sorry, but I’m speaking the truth. The funeral was three weeks ago,” Steve insisted. “We were all there. They handed you the flag.”

“I can’t believe you of all people would go along with this sick joke. Bucky isn’t dead. He was here last night. He told me he went out with you and Sam. I heard him come home, and climb into bed. I think you are the one who’s been dreaming, not me.” I hung up the phone madder at Steve than I had ever been. I would’ve thought that Steve had better sense than to play like his best friend had died three weeks ago. The fact that he kept insisting that it was true only fueled my fury. I paced the living room space. On my second circuit around, I stopped short. On the rack by the door were Bucky’s keys. His boots were under the little table by the door. My hands started shaking. Something was wrong. I called Clint. He would be awake already and was quickly beginning to be Bucky's best-21st-century-friend. Perhaps he knew where Bucky was?

“Yeah?” Clint snapped. In the background I could hear his kids running around and yelling. I threw out the pleasantries and cut right to the chase.

“Clint, where is Bucky?” I demanded.

“Wait, what?” he asked, confused. “He’s not here. He’s-”

“Missing.” I interrupted. “Bucky came home last night but when I woke up this morning he was gone. He’s not answering his cell. His stuff is still here. Please, Clint. I’m scared. You gotta help me find him,” I pleaded.

“Hey, take a couple of deep breaths for me. Wha-hang on. _Lila do not give that to your brother!_ Sorry. What do you mean he came home last night?

“Why wouldn’t he come home?” I snapped. I had to force myself to take a deep breath. To control myself and not lash out at the question. This was an emergency and I hated the fact that nobody else seemed to feel the same sense of urgency. I wanted to run through the streets, screaming his name. But the logical part of me knew that it would do no good. I needed help, and if Clint wanted to ask important but tedious questions, then so be it. “He told me last night that he was going out with Steve and Sam to a bar. Not sure how late they stayed out but he came home around two in the morning.”

“Oh no,” Clint mumbled under his breath. “Look, I don't know quite what is going on, but maybe you should get some rest. I can call Sam to come check on you later.”

“No. First Steve, and now you.” I said, exasperated.

“What about Steve?”

“I called him first this morning. He’s got this stupid idea in his head that somehow Bucky isn’t missing, he’s dead and there was a funeral for him three weeks ago. Had the nerve to imply that I was dreaming last night.”

“You're in obvious distress and I didn't want to say anything but Steve isn’t lying. I'm so sorry.”

“No! Bucky isn’t dead, he's missing, and no one will help me find him!” I started to cry now, after hanging up the phone on Clint. My hands started to shake, and my breathing became erratic. I threw myself onto the couch, tears streaming down my face. All this talk of Bucky being dead was starting to wear on me. Doubt began to creep in but I refused to listen to it. My fear was getting stronger; hundreds of improbable, but not impossible, scenarios ran through my head. I tried calling his cell phone again, but it went back to voicemail. The knot in my chest felt like it was going to burst if I didn’t do something more to find him. I contemplated what to do.

"I will just go look for him myself," I muttered into the empty room.

Early morning rush hour sucked. Early morning rush hour sucked even more when all you want to do is run and scream through the streets and not be forced to sit still for long periods of time. I knew the message behind that. I just didn't want to listen. Didn't want to calm down or be patient. Anxiety pooled in my stomach as I drove to all of the places Bucky and I used to frequent. Our favorite restaurants and cafes. The park where we had our first kiss. The movie theater where we went on our first date. Bucky's favorite hobby store because the super nice old man was a retired army vet who still had a memory sharper than the knives he sold. Bucky would spend hours there, playing games with Mr. Carroll when the shop was quiet and talking about the good ole days.

All of the places were empty and with each location, my heart sunk further into the depths of the ocean. Despair swallowed me. Consumed me. I felt my throat clench and spasm as panic and darkness flooded my body. I couldn't breathe!

It took every ounce of strength I had and more to pick myself up and make my way back to the car. I couldn't have a breakdown in the middle of the sidewalk. It would be embarrassing and Tony would give me grief forever.

Wait a minute…. Tony. 

Tony, with his ability to track any of his StarkTech that just so happens to be imbedded in Bucky's arm. Tony, who still felt a strong resentment towards Bucky for killing his parents, would also never leave a fellow teammate behind. Tony would help me.

I quickly wiped my face on my shirt and began to make my way to Stark Tower

Tony and Bucky didn’t quite get along, but there had been some improvements since the first time they met. Tony was no longer trying to kill Bucky, and Bucky was doing his best to make up for the pain he caused. They weren't the best of friends but they were a good pair on the field. It wasn't until a particular rough fight that damaged Bucky's arm did any of us realize just how far they had come. After the battle was over Tony had, without hesitation, dragged Bucky all the way down to his lab and spent hours fixing it and making much needed improvements. It was a beautiful moment and an important stepping stone in their growing friendship.

I reached the Tower and, thanks to FRIDAY, was able to reach Tony’s bedroom door in record time. I began to bang on it loudly. This was not out of panic; I just knew that nothing else would wake him up. The man could sleep through anything. I waited a while then started banging again. Finally, the door opened, with a very agitated Tony looking at me. Without giving him any time to speak, I launched into the tirade that I had planned on the drive over, never once taking a breath.

"Tony, go get dressed, please, you've gotta help me look for Bucky. He's missing. I called Steve and Clint and they both said that he was dead and I know that he is not because he came home last night but when I woke up this morning he was gone and I don't know what to do so please help me and why are you staring at me like that?" 

I took a deep breath, and dried my fresh tears. At this point he had a very troubled look on his face.

"I-" Tony began. He sighed, as if he had done this before. "I’m sorry. You've gotta let him go. He's not coming back." I lost it. I attacked him, screaming and hitting him on the chest repeatedly.

"Bucky is not dead! He's missing, I tell you! Why won't anybody believe me? Don’t you care?" Tony just wrapped his arms around me and held me as I screamed into his tee shirt, tears soaking his chest. 

“You want proof?” he asked, grabbing my arms and gently prying me off him. “Come on, I’ll take you home.” He walked me down to my car and drove me back to my home. When we got inside, he guided me to my bedroom. He sat me down on my bed and I watched him curiously open Bucky’s side of the dresser. When I saw the folded red, white, and blue in his hands, I started screaming.

“No! No! No! No!” I cried, over and over. He set the flag down in my lap. I grasped it and buried my face in it, screaming and crying. Tony wrapped me in his arms as I mourned the loss of the only man I ever loved.

Bucky awoke, gasping with sweat covering his body. He immediately looked for his girl next to him but the bed was empty. Frantic, he threw the covers off him and ran downstairs calling her name.

"In the kitchen, and don't be so loud, you'll wake the dead," she called back. Ignoring the way his heart constricted at the mention of death, he spotted her at the sink. She was washing the dishes in her sleep shirt, an old tee of his that just barely covered her. He came up behind her, turned her around, and kissed her hard. Bucky wrapped his flesh hand in her hair, his metal one snaking behind her back, and pulling her flush to his body. Startled, she broke the kiss and looked at him, her features drawn tight with confusion.

"Bucky, are you alright? You look like you took a shower with your clothes on. You’re so sweaty. Baby, what’s going on?”

"Nightmare." Bucky buried his face into her hair, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo. He just wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go.

"Oh, honey.” She ran a hand through his sweat-drenched locks. “Gimme a second and we can go to the couch and talk."

"Alright,” he mumbled against her hair. Several moments passed before she tapped him lightly on his back. He grunted his affirmative.

"'Um, can I have my body back now? It’s getting a little hard to breathe,” she laughed lightly. He released his iron grip rather reluctantly. 

He leaned against the counter and watched her as she finished washing the cup and dried her hands. He hated feeling so insecure but he just couldn’t shake the dream. As soon as she was finished, he grabbed her hand and nearly dragged her to the couch. Pulling her down with him, he curled his body into hers. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, lightly tracing patterns. Her head was atop his, and she sporadically placed feather light kisses along his forehead.

"Alright, Bucky. Tell me about the nightmare you had."

"I dreamed I was dead. You woke up alone. You called Steve 'n Tasha and Clint and they told you that I had died. You were so scared, crying so much. You refused to believe it, said that they were wrong. Even Tony said the same thing. But they wouldn't listen. You thought it was ‘cause they didn't care." 

Bucky's breathing was shaky and he had some trouble getting his last sentence out, his voice breaking at the end. She tilted his head up a little and kissed him. It was a lazy kiss, not meant to incite passion but to calm. Into it, she poured how much she loved him and he relished the feeling. He wanted to devour her in a frenzied passion, to chase away the panic and fear in his heart, but she broke the kiss before he could, his head following hers.

“Of course they care, Buck. They are your friends. All of the Avengers care about you, in their own way. Steve probably wouldn’t survive your death again. Natasha and Clint wouldn’t have anybody to spar with anymore. Sam only pretends to hate you, but you know he really loves the banter you two share. Even Tony is starting to warm up to you." Her voice held such confidence, he could feel the panic starting to recede. He trusted her with everything he had. She had never failed him. It was one of the things he loved about her the most; her unyielding optimism gave him hope that maybe he was allowed to have a better future. He certainly wanted that future to be with her, no matter what. But what about now? What would happen if he was gone tomorrow?

"If something were to happen… If I were to die today, which version of Bucky will people remember me as, if at all?” He held out his hands, staring. One flesh, one metal. Two sides of the same coin. On one side, his bloody past; the iron fist of HYDRA. Unyielding and cold. On the other, warmth, love, friendship. A possibility of a better future; hope. Either side could easily hurt someone. He felt as if he was always on the fence. Neither one nor the other, but something in between. 

"Bucky, of course people will remember you,” she reassured him.

"Maybe, but will it be as someone good?" At this she was silent. The world would always remember the Winter Soldier, no matter how much he worked endlessly towards proving he was a changed man. The thousands of rescue missions would never sway the general public’s opinion of him. They would call him hero now, but as soon as he made a mistake they would quickly point out his past and call him a monster. 

It was exhausting. The Avengers tried their best to get him to see that it wasn’t public displays of his good works that made the difference, it was how he changed on the inside. It was how he used his skills for saving instead of killing, the relationships he was able to form, and his ability to learn and grow in the twenty-first century that showed people he was changed. It was something he struggled with on a daily basis, but Steve and his best girl made sure he never forgot how far he had come. Some days, that was his only win.

"Will you do me a favor?” Bucky asked, sitting up. He sighed tiredly, his body aching and drained.

"Sure. Anything." Her tone promised he could’ve asked for the world, and she would’ve been willing to give it.

He didn’t know how he’d managed to find her, but he thanked God that he had. She brought out the best in others and made him want to be a better man, like she deserved.

“I need help. I need to get the stain of that monster I used to be off my hands. I don’t want people to remember what I've done..." He paused to think, taking in a shaky breath, before saying, “I've spent the last several years trying to make up for decades of being the reason for so much suffering. I can’t imagine what I’ve put you through and I am-"

Before he could speak again, she leaned in and kissed his lips. Her hand carefully stroked his cheek. "I have already forgiven and forgotten, my love," she whispered.

He tilted his head, questioning. "You don't resent me?" 

"Never did. What happened was beyond your control. And yet you still carry this burden of pain in your heart. You are striving for forgiveness that has already been so freely offered. You just have to accept it.” She took his hands in hers and knelt down in front of him. She brought each hand to her lips and placed a chaste kiss to his palms. “You have to forgive yourself. As I have.”

Bucky bit his lip as he tried to maintain his composure but, as soon as the first hot tear hit his cheek, he lost it. She rose instantly and enveloped him in a hug, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed uncontrollably into her shirt. He could tell she was fighting back her own tears and he loved her for her inexhaustible compassion.

“I can’t,” he sobbed.

“Yes, you can,” she promised. “Forgiveness isn't about saying that what you did is okay. It’s saying that in spite of it, you are still loved and accepted. Forgiveness washes away the pain, the guilt, the shame; it heals.” Tears streamed down her face now, falling into his hair where she stroked his head.

“I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve anything but death,” he groaned.

“You are right.” At this he looked up at her, his red and puffy eyes wide. His mouth hung slightly open, his lips chapped. His nose was running, but neither of them paid it any mind. “You don’t deserve to be forgiven. But that is the beauty of forgiveness. We get it, even when we don’t deserve it. I forgive you Bucky. Steve forgives you. Natasha, Clint, Sam, Thor, Bruce, they all forgive you. Tony is working on it, but he will forgive you. But you listen to me, nobody deserves death. Not even you. No matter how much one has or hasn’t done, nobody in the world deserves to die. Everybody can be redeemed.” 

She leaned down and kissed him. Her lips were soft against the roughness of his own chapped lips and she licked them, asking for permission. He sighed into the kiss, allowing her tongue to explore his mouth, their tongues dancing. He groaned into the kiss, and pulled her into his lap. Her knees were on either side of his hips while her hands cupped his face. He cradled her head with one hand, while his other was splayed across her lower back.

“I love you. I love you even when you are snotty and sweaty, I love you.” She said in between kisses. He chuckled lightly against her lips before pulling away.

“That’s disgusting.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust, which he knew was completely belied by the smirk on his lips. His smirk fell and he grew somber. He wiped his face on his sleeve before looking back at her. The tension in his shoulders slowly relaxed. He still felt the ball of anxiety in his chest, but it was much calmer now.

“I want everything you said,” he breathed. “Will you help me? Please?”

“Of course. Anything for you, Bucky. We’ll do this together.”

The End


End file.
